well, we are a week deep into the new year and the only thing i have resolved to do, as i do every year, is not to resolve to do anything. for me, a list of resolutions is just basically a bunch of things i won’t ever do, but will just feel guilty about not doing for an entire year. i prefer to make more of a Maybe I Will Do X This Year Should I Feel Inclined Once In Awhile List.

regardless of my blatant disregard for self improvement, the new year always does inspire some reflection of the year that just closed; and 2011 was a great year with many noteworthy events i would love to share with you – which i certainly would if my hippocampus hadn’t been swimming in vodka during most of it…

most of my notable moments were during my misadventures in dating: there was a plastic surgeon that pre-qualified me by asking if i was “all natural.” there was a mulva moment with a guy who’s name i could not remember prompting me to rummage through his medicine cabinet to find an rx bottle with his name on it (i did; and then, promptly googled what it was for). there was the guy that asked me, “are those are yours?” over dinner and the one guy, whom i actually dated for a few months, that said out loud to me: “i wouldn’t want to date a smoking hot girl; i settled for really really cute.”  but, fortunately, this all did prompt me make one resolution – i resolved not to date in 2012.

there were a few other memorable moments i can think of: there was the moment of the most staggering irony when the ex-husband told my 11 year daughter who had just acquired her first boyfriend that he wanted to take her on a “daddy date” so he can show her how she should be treated by a boy. yes, he said that..and meant it. there was a very touching moment when my kids hugged the the ex-husband’s girlfriend’s nanny when we saw her at our pool. yes, read that again and try to follow along. there was the bonding moment with my baby nephews when they ceased to cry whenever i merely walked into a room and only cried when i tried to touch them. the moment when i realized i should have declawed that asshole cat. oh, and there was the i’m really fucking 40 moment when i realized i couldn’t see a gd thing close up anymore and had to take off my glasses to read.

i also had some personal milestones this year: i had a boyfriend that cured me of wanting to have any more boyfriends (see above) and i finally felt true independence. i had a new friend that cured me of wanting any more new friends which cemented the wonderful friendships i already had. i moved into my own place and finally got to be Queen of The Castle in every way. i found an instant love that will last me for the rest of my life whom i affectionately call “N” (short for Netflix). i got a great job i really like working with a bunch of brilliant scientists and i am their Penny. and i’m starting school in a few weeks for a paralegal degree that will enable me to have real skills and have a real career in a few years getting paid to do something i love and am great at: flirting with lawyers and arguing.

so, i guess 2011 was a year of great personal growth and finding my way. i expect 2012 to propel me even further down that path. and i may not have actual resolutions, but i do i have some small goals: to blog at least once a week for my tens of adoring fans and act like a real writer, to stop eating baked lays in bed, to stop drinking vodka in the bathroom, and to stop being angry at myself for all the poor choices i made as a naive young woman because all i can i do is make better ones now.

i know this isn’t much of a post after such a long absence, but, hey, it’s just the season opener. happy new year my friends. thanks for reading my blather and for telling others to read it too. thanks for registering for the blog and for following the facebook page (if you are not a fb fan yet, then i have a resolution idea for you…).

all the best for all of us in the new year!

the twelve days of swvmas*

on the first day of swvmas, my true love** gave to me:

a boyfriend*** who is so dream -eeee

on the second day of swvmas, my true love gave to me:

two red wines

and a boyfriend who is so dream-eeee

on the third day of swvmas, my true love gave to me:

three vodka tonics

two red wines

and a boyfriend who is so dream-eeee

on the fourth day of swvmas, my true love gave to me:

four calling men

three vodka tonics

two red wines

and a boyfriend who is so dream-eeee

on the fifth day of swvmas, my true love gave to me:

five golden rings****

four calling men

three vodka tonics

two red wines

and a boyfriend who is so dream-eeee

on the sixth day of swvmas, my true love gave to me:

six shoes on sale

five golden rings

four calling men

three vodka tonics

two red wines

and a boyfriend who is so dream-eeee

on the seventh day of swvmas, my true love gave to me:

seven chefs a cooking

six shoes on sale

five golden rings

four calling men

three vodka tonics

two red wines

and a boyfriend who is so dream-eeee

on the eighth day of swvmas, my true love gave to me:

eight maids a cleaning

seven chefs a cooking

six shoes on sale

five golden rings

four calling men

three vodka tonics

two red wines

and a boyfriend who is so dream-eeee

on the ninth day of swvmas, my true love gave to me:

nine glasses clinking

eight maids a cleaning

seven chefs a cooking

six shoes on sale

five golden rings

four calling men

three vodka tonics

two red wines

and a boyfriend who is so dream-eeee

on the tenth day of swvmas, my true love gave to me:

ten pants a fitting

nine glasses clinking

eight maids a cleaning

seven chefs a cooking

six shoes on sale

five golden rings

four calling men

three vodka tonics

two red wines

and a boyfriend who is so dream-eeee

on the eleventh day of swvmas, my true love gave to me:

eleven diamonds shining

ten pants a fitting

nine glasses clinking

eight maids a cleaning

seven chefs a cooking

six shoes on sale

five golden rings

four calling men

three vodka tonics

two red wines

and a boyfriend who is so dream-eeee

on the twelfth day of swvmas, my true love gave to me:

twelve barkeeps mixing

eleven diamonds shining

ten pants a fitting

nine glasses clinking

eight maids a cleaning

seven chefs a cooking

six shoes on sale

five golden rings

four calling men

three vodka tonics

two red wines

and a boyfriend who is so dream-eeee

*not so much a gift list, so much as a wish list

**there is no true love

***there is no actual boyfriend

****there is no reason to change this one

 Merry Bitchmas y’all! now give me a present and:

follow me on twitter and like me on facebook

so, there have been a lot of new registrants to the ol’ swv blog and i am soooooo grateful for each and very one of you that is an actual human and not a spam site. it is not a secret i have been long overdue in posting, and i do have a bunch of half finished posts strewn about the place (i swear), but i’m always way to busy (read: buzzed) to finish one. so i thought i would just cut and paste a large selection of my wonderfully witty tweets here for several reasons: it’s still original material, it’s the easiest, laziest post ever, and maybe you will finally follow me on twitter and facebook. also, feel free to comment on the blog at the end of the posts like other real followers of real blogs. i mean seriously, sweet jeebus, people, i can’t do all of this by myself. if there is one thing the innerwebs and twitter has shown me, i am but a minnow in a huge online sea of funny, witty, and brilliant fish. and i am further reduced to one microscopic plankton in the whales’s gullet without a respectable following…

here is most of what you have been missing: (oh ,and yes, i’m aware the spacing f-d up. just deal with it.)

Dear Evolution: pubic hair is no longer necessary. K, thx. Love, All of Us.

like i said last year, i don’t make new year’s resolutions anymore because i know i’m not gonna keep ‘em. let me give you an idea of how this type of thing has gone in the past:

i resolved to eat better, so i had a yogurt for breakfast, a salad for lunch, and an entire pizza for dinner.

i resolved to exercise more, so i joined a gym, worked out every day for 2 weeks, and then took a break for 6 months.

i resolved to cut back on carbs, so i stopped eating bread and replaced it with pretzels, popcorn, and tortilla chips.

i resolved to drink less, so i replaced the vodka with wine, and later the wine with vodka.

i resolved to do more things with my kids, so i watched tv with them.

i resolved to date men my own age, so i slept with a string of random 20 year olds.

i resolved to be more assertive, so i acted like a huge bitch.

i resolved to communicate better with those i love, so i talked to them less.

i resolved to stay out of the malls, so i shopped online.

i resolved to lose the last 5 pounds, so i gained 10.

i resolved to take better care of myself, so i started going to bed without washing my face or brushing my teeth.

i resolved to give myself more time in the morning by setting my alarm to wake me earlier, so i snoozed until i woke up late.

i resolved to let my hair grow long, so i stopped shaving.

i resolved to read more and watch less tv, so i leafed through catalogs while watching my dvr.

i resolved to be more patient with others, so i tried to convince my gynecologist to give me a prescription for xanax.

i resolved to save money, so i started picking up loose change up off the floor.

i resolved not to settle and to find someone who really gets me, so i got a cat.

i resolved to drink more water, so i added ice cubes to my vodka.

i resolved to floss every day, so i avoided the dentist for 14 months.

i resolved to take up a hobby, so i collected one night stands.

i resolved to get more rest, so i started taking sleeping pills.

i resolved to cook more for my kids, so i got frozen dinners.

i resolved to keep my house clean, so i hired a cleaning service.

i resolved to make some new single friends, so i hung out with my kids on their playdates.

i resolved to be more of a “morning person,” so i started drinking more coffee.

i resolved to be strong, so i cried in the night when no one was looking.

i resolve to make 2011 the year of The Suevolution(tm). so, let’s see how that goes.

like swv on facebook too!

screw blondes – bad girls have more fun.

good girl, bad girl – it’s really all a matter of perspective.

so i have replaced wine with chocolate, but i think i have to go to pills next – no calories.

writing inspiration always strikes when i am in bed – after all, it is where i do my best work…

as far as dating goes, i think i may be a seller in a buyer’s market…

so far there is no major difference between having the cat around the house and having a husband: he sheds, eats anything i give him, doesn’t clean up after himself,  licks me only occasionally, marks his territory by peeing where he’s not supposed to, doesn’t come when i call, hides to avoid activities he doesn’t want to do, and ignores me until he wants something. nice thing is, i can neuter this guy and give him away if i get tired of him.

i enjoy a romp with my battery powered friend before i go to sleep. but after being surprised i took a 4 hour nap the other day, a friend suggested that i not set my vibrator to stun…

you know, honestly, i didn’t want to get a cat at all, but it has given me a lot of new material – i have tapped into a whole new subject area since i can make endless double entendre pussy references now.

i have a friend who is a martha stewart of sorts and i just feel so inadequate around her – she really inspires me to want to do & be so much more…i have decided to stop hanging around her.

i was all set to go out to today and run a bunch of errands but then i realized i had so many unfinished things to take care of around the house – a bag of potato chips, a box of chocolate, and a bottle of wine.

i thought The Headache Excuse was completely bogus until i had one the other night -  i wouldn’t even do myself.

just how long have you let yourself go when you have to put “shower” on your To Do list?

my dating life is a train wreck and i am the unlicensed engineer.

The Biggest Loser is not only a reality show, but who contacts me online.

i am ready to dive back into the dating pool, but since there is no lifeguard, i am going to wear my floaties this time.

for some men condoms aren’t an option, you need a full wet suit.

thank goodness we educate new mothers about the possibility of post-partum depression after birth – but shouldn’t we do the same for new wives about post honeymoon depression after the wedding?

note to unworthy men: sometimes we fuck you because we have nothing else to do & we are just bored.

my resolve to get things done tomorrow is always so much stronger today.

i was at my friend dana’s house eating gas inducing hibachi leftovers and i asked her if she minded if i farted. she said, “no, but i just don’t want it to smell.”

i was immensely flattered to find out several of my friends must delete my texts.

dating has totally made me get why strippers hate men.

i was contacted by a hot greek man online. i began to respond, but remembered i had to do the proper background check first and google greek penis size first.

i think the problem with the dating pool might be that it’s only stocked with flounders & guppies and i’m a shark.

i would stop drinking, but nothing fun ever happens when i’m sober.

there are no alcohol bottles in my house – they are all outside in the recycle bin.

go ahead – jump in feet first into the sea of online dating – but wear a life vest.

i wish i could dvr my life – fast forward to the end of the work day, delete things i don’t like, watch the good parts of my day over & over again, generally avoid anything distasteful, and most importantly, set the frequency for sex.

i actually did give up drinking for awhile and i realized something very important: sobriety is greatly overrated.

my pal, jenna, & i poop at the same time every day (yes, sadly we discuss this) – some women synch their periods, we synch our bowels.

whatever i catch in the dating pool, must be thrown back – i am beginning to think it’s the bait…

being a lil’ bit crazy, but basically functional is fine, but being a batshit nutjob and wandering about free in the world should require some sort of identification be worn at all times so the rest of us have fair warning.

lice is going around the school. i worried about catching it until i found out they prefer to take residence in clean hair.

i’d like to see a female wrestler called The Ex-Wife kicking ass – or better yet, a super hero: among her powers would be the ability to make any deadbeat ex-husband pay up immediately and then banish him to a tower of isolation for eternity.

my girls have a problem with PBS: Pre-Bitch Syndrome.

i want to keep letting my hair grow until it’s past my boobs. question is, with a bra on or off? this obviously determines the amount it still has to go.

i don’t do name tags. chances are if i didn’t give a shit who anyone was before i knew their name, i’m not gonna start at a fucking corprorate cocktail hour. do adults who are capable of actual speech, remembering their own names, & controlled muscle movement really need to wear these things to break the proverbial ice? and, furthermore, it’s a good bet that i don’t want to be identified later…

conversation at work with cool boss:

boss: “do you think you will get married again?”

me: “no way!”

boss: “well, you are kind of negative about men.”

me: “wow, thanks for pointing that out – that’s a major breakthough.”

recently the girls & i were invited to dinner at their friend’s house. while helping clean up, i opened the fridge to put the leftovers away and the inside just looked so odd to me. i couldn’t put my finger on why until i realized it was full.

while totally warranted, bitter is such an ugly word used to describe me – i prefer tangy.

i have tried to be less lazy, but i’m just not that motivated do anything about it.

i have tried to be less high maintenance, but i just have so many needs to be met.

my cousin was hit on by a hot married woman who explained that her husband is a quadripalegic and they have “an arrangement.” cuz wasn’t sure he wanted to cross over to the dark side (something about morals), but, i, of course, advised him to go for it. he said, “ok, but if she pulls into the driveway in a wheel chair equipped van, that’s where i draw the line.”

it has recently occurred to me, i may be one of “those people.”

popping zits & bubble wrap: universally satisfying.

text conversation with a suspected jackass i had only been texting with for a few days, that even i found offensive:

jackass: “i am in manalapan, do you want to get spanked?”

me: “you have to be kidding me.”

jackass: “nope”

me: “i wonder if your dick is as big as your balls.”

jackass: never heard from again.

me:

hey if you dig this blog, dig it on facebook too!

so, i got a new cell last week because a certain asshat that lives in this house with me, who shall remain nameless, spilled water on my old one. but, swv, you say, “surely it was an accident. why would someone do such a nasty thing?” to which swv replies, “oh no, dear friends, i assure you, it was no accident. i spied the alleged crime being committed out of the corner of my little eye.” i got cocky and was silly enough  to try to live like a free person in my own home and left the phone unattended during the kitchen webcast for nary a moment, when i heard water being poured and turned my head in time to witness the murder of my beloved phone. we had a lot of good times together, that phone and i. oh the stories it could tell about the b part of gggb. sigh. anyway, you know, its not like i haven’t fantasized about the destruction of the hat’s personal property myself. a nasty divorce makes petty bedfellows when you are forced to live together for oh, approximately 21 looonnng months now (not that i am counting). i would just love to accidentally pour orange juice on the webcam, accidentally run over his cell phone with my car, accidentally destroy his laptop with lemonade, but the difference is, I DON’T. why don’t i? because i am what is known as an adult. not a bratty 39 year old child in a grown up body. because i am not a vapid, petulant, spoiled frat boy pulling pranks on my buds at the house. besides, can you imagine the barrage of whiny letters i would get from plaintiff’s of counsel, Mr. Spitty, to cease and desist? and the kicker is, that puppy was up for a 100 clam upgrade next month anyway. hmm, i wonder if i should just submit my receipts directly on the blog. okay, digression complete: i tell you about the phone because it struck me that getting a new phone or any new piece of technology is much like starting a new relationship.

one day it’s close to the date of your 2 year anniversary upgrade and you wake up and see the phone you have through different eyes. less starstruck eyes. it has lost it’s shine. it was great at first when you were both so in synch. but little by little you started to grow apart. she doesn’t look as good as she used to. the thrill is gone and you start to wonder what else is out there while you two have been cocooning at home for 2 years in a haze of texts and vodka. one day you secretly look at online phone sites. phone porn. you forget to erase the browser history and the breakup is inevitable. before you realize it, you find yourself in the market for a new phone. at first you are just discretely looking at your friends’ phones. what do they have that you don’t that makes them so happy? then you go out & start shopping around a bit. you find yourself at the verizon store alone or with a friend for support. you are at the singles’ bar of phones, and when you first walk in it’s so full of promise. it’s a meat market with so many possibilities that you can’t believe what you have been missing all of this time. you had an idea what was out there, but not like this. which phone will you will leave with tonight? they are all so beautiful. so many new & exciting features in so many different models. but you better find a phone before that scene gets old. still, you imagine all the things you will do together with your new phone. you will text without limits, finally use the email feature, use the internet, go on dates with  your fav 5 & their phones. you will always be together & take her everywhere. finally after what seems like so much looking, you find the one. your search is finally over you are ready to commit. you can’t wait to bring her home to show her off to your friends and family. brag on her and all the amazing features she has that your last phone didn’t. you smugly ask your pals, “do your phones do that?” it’s a new relationship just bursting with infinite futures, and you are happy and in love all over again. it’s perfect & exactly what you dreamed of. all the qualities in a phone you always wanted that your others didn’t have. she gets you, man.

the relationship progresses slowly at first. and as you unwrap her gingerly from the box, you promise her & yourself: it will be different this time, baby. i won’t ever drop you. i will never leave you unprotected. i won’t let anyone touch you. i will get you insurance. you want a cover, a 50 dollar bundle, extra battery? you got it. anything for you. i will never turn my back on you. i will always keep you close to me in your special compartment in my purse. you will never get wet (not like my last 4 phones). i swear. i will treat you right baby. with respect. i definitely won’t lose you at least once every day, uh uh. i will never overcharge your battery. what? what’s that i am shoving in the back of my drawer? pay no attention – its just a cell phone graveyard with various crumpled manuals and outdated chargers. i don’t care about them anymore. i promise to get rid of all of them. i will only read your manual, baby. it’s just you & me now. you will never end up there baby, you’re different, you’re special. and so it goes. you are pretty sure you are made for each other but you still have 30 days to be positive. you can still back out and return to your old phone if no one has snatched her up yet after you dumped her in that recycle bin. if she will have you again. she loved you once. maybe she can again. she wasn’t that bad really…

as you get more comfortable with each other over the next week, your new phone slowly reveals herself. one by one the protective plastic coverings come off. slowly at first, but then you just rip the rest off until she is totally naked. vulnerable and completely trusting you not to hurt her. sending that first text is like deflowering a virgin. “you’ll be gentle, right?  you promise not to scratch my display baby? you won’t get greasy fingerprints all over my shiney parts? i am not wearing any case today. you said you wouldn’t drop me. no, no don’t leave me here in the kitchen by the kids. i don’t like your kids very much and i hate your dog. you promised.” and it’s all so exciting, the discovery phase of the relationship. the falling in love. the software & layout are different than what you’re used to. the keys are bigger & softer to the touch. they are real. touching her even made you a bit nervous at first. she felt so different in your hands. it was a challenge to get her to open up, and teach you all her ways, but it was intoxicating. and as she reveals all of her functions, you learned exactly how to press her buttons to get the right result every time. and it is the heaven you imagined – she cuddles next to you every night and greets you with her gentle buzz every morning. you are a perfect match and for almost 2 years, it’s bliss until the contract nears it’s end and the new models come out…

when i had to pick my new phone i was overwhelmed – i clearly wasn’t ready to be out there yet. i looked over all the models at the store but didn’t take any home. i wasn’t ready to commit. it was so much pressure being out there. feeling so exposed. so i tried online dating, and after exploring a few possible matches, i ordered my new phone off the verizon website. ironically, i  chose the newest model of the phone i already had. it was just a younger, shiner, & better dressed version. the buttons were tight and unused. the were no scars on its body or display. it was just beautiful & perfect. so, in effect, i traded up for a trophy wife. i am sure we will be very happy together.

for 24 months.

so i just spent 2 days curled up in bed with a nasty stomach bug. and i wonder not from where i contracted the pest, but more so why it always strikes after i have eaten an unusually large 12 course meal mere hours before. it was sunday pig out day and i take that very seriously. my only saving grace was that the wee ones and i happened to be sleeping at my mom’s the night the virus attacked, which meant i had my mommy to take care of me. it was almost worth being sick, because during the marriage (a term which i use loosely), the hat normally left me for dead when i got sick. he was most likely too busy allegedly jacking off or allegedly toking up and lost track of time in a drug haze like those parents of the infant in trainspotters. but, i digress…

i find the suspense of the crippling nausea to be worse than the actual up-chucking, for awhile i beg my stomach to hold steady and then i do a 180 and beg to just get it over with because you really do feel better after the ol’ heave ho. it’s all about facing the fear for me. but then the suspense starts all over again for round 2. i always find an hour to be the magic amount of time. if i can just get  past an hour i will be fine. if i can just sleep. and why is it always in the middle of the night when these things happen? i always think, if i can make it through the night i will be fine. it will all be over when the sun shines. and it just blows my mind if i barf during the day.

so, while my partially digested meal proceeded to exit six times using all possible means of egress, and i was laying in the fetal position on the bathroom floor, i was thinking, “at least i’m losing weight.” never mind, the broken blood vessels all around my eyes, the dehydration, sallow skin, and relentless physical torture. naturally, i couldn’t wait to get on that scale when i was finally able to rise above a crawl position. and then the cruelest of all jokes: not one ounce lost. how is that possible? isn’t there an entire eating disorder based on this premise? what was i doing wrong?

but it was so nice to have mommy there to take care of me. she brought me water, flat coke, hot tea, held my hair back, & cleaned up after me like she used to when i was a kid. which means bad news for us mothers: it turns out no matter how old our kids get, we are never ever done cleaning up vomit & poo. well, you’re the best mom. and uh, thanks for the loaner undies, the reason which necessitated such, we have agreed never to speak of again…

on the second eve of the aftermath, i am still wiped out and i am finally just able to keep down water. my stomach is still gurgling incessantly and i am in fear of a full relapse. then there is also the worry about the rest of the household being struck down with the same merciless ailment. how many days is it until you can be sure it’s icy grip has passed like the angel of death on pessach? is there some pagan offering to be left for it to skip your children? can i smear lamb’s blood on my door?

i have a friend who lives in fear of stomach viruses and will quarantine you at the mere mention of “throw-up.” her children are interrogated every day after they get home, with, “did anyone throw up at school today? did anyone say they were nauseous? did anyone mention being around anybody who was sick? did anyone go to the nurse? was any sawdust spread on the floor of any room by yours? no? fine. go wash your hands before you touch anything!” her mother once sent back 52 bags of groceries because the cashier mentioned she felt nauseous at the end of the transaction. so, it would seem my pal does come by it honestly, and in following parental suit, she has a complicated formula by which she figures out the square root of the hypotenuse of how many days from initial exposure until infectious danger has passed and she will agree to meet you out in public. the time frame for when you are allowed back into her home or vice verse is an entirely other much longer formula which is proprietary and usually works out to be a minimum of 6 weeks. mind you she is no math whiz, but she has a ph.d in barf. she claims it’s because she can’t stand to see her children suffer. i say it’s more to do with cleaning the carpet. oh, wait, that’s me.

please, don’t get me wrong, i hate to ever see my girls in any discomfort, but i was quite thrilled when they learned how to make it to the bathroom on time or at least aim successfully into the bedside bucket. i have a weak stomach & overactive gag reflex which makes cleaning up vomit more difficult for me than your average bear. i once came very close to barfing on my own baby at the sight of a diarrhea explosion up to her armpits. i had to strap her to the changing table & run to the toilet. so, it’s no surprise i have to talk myself down when i have to deal with puke. i repeat a mantra of, “grow up. deal. you are NOT going to throw up. keep it together, dammit.” only thing hat was ever minimally useful for was that particular clean-up detail. and when kids get sick, they always manage to sprinkle every piece of linen on the bed and projectile within a 5 mile radius. baby spit-up was bad enough & was generally controllable with my babies. but when they got bigger and  it turned into real vomit, i was done for. and don’t get me started on barfing in a moving vehicle. that strikes terror into my heart like nothing else. that is one scenario for which i am rarely prepared. the clean-up is monumental. you might as well total the car at that point. is there a vomit clause in auto insurance? there should be if not. i must ask that progressive chick.

then there is nothing quite like the test of a relationship when barf is introduced. does he run screaming or does he hold your hair back? does he barf along side you at the sight of vomit or does he want to rub your back and sleep next to you on the floor of the bathroom even though you protest pitifully? does he bring blankets into the bathroom for you while breaking & entering even though you tried to lock him out because it’s just too soon for him to see you this way & you are really embarrassed? cute bf saw me at my worst fairly early on and i knew if he didn’t bail then, there may be no getting rid of this guy!

anyway, that concludes my dissertation on vomtiology.  now, here i sit, sipping flat bourbonless coke, patiently waiting for a complete recovery. hoping i will be ready to face the world in 24 hours knowing the world has no idea what i just faced a mere 24 hours earlier. if i am lucky i will be able to have a cup of coffee with my friend in 8 weeks or so when she agrees to see me to celebrate the spring thaw…

so here’s a bunch of crap that i think about, weird stuff i do, some asshat custody evaluation fodder (this way he can’t say i never did nutin’ for him), & general observations:

when i see those memorial crosses with flowers & gifts on the side of the highway denoting a fatal traffic accident, i frequently wonder if some of them are for pets who got loose & got clobbered by a car.

when my i buy my kids craft projects or i am gifted with random assorted junk from the PTA sales at school, i say to myself that’s a $27.00 piece of garbage-to-be, how long am i expected to keep this on display before i can throw it out?

when trashing the aforementioned items, i have an evil process: 1. it is displayed for a reasonable period of time somewhere prominent. 2. it is moved somewhere less prominent so i can see if it’s absence has been noticed. this occurs for a lesser amount of time. 3. it is hidden in a drawer out of sight for a minimum of 2 weeks to see if anyone misses it at all. 4. it is wrapped in black garbage bags, stuffed in the bottom of the trash or disposed of in a secret trash location. once in awhile i get caught by the girls at perp-ing step 4 and i am forced to feign surprise & remorse and claim it was an accident. once the heat is off, i will then start the process again.

i once said raising girls involves a lot of glitter. demetri martin said. “glitter is the herpes of craft supplies.” i think that is spot on.

over the past month or so, the hat has been “secretly” videotaping me in the morning when i get the kids ready for school. i use the quotes because he thinks i don’t know and he thinks he is going to catch me in some inappropriate parental “behavior.” frankly, i normally only have 1 eye open at 7:30 am and i am way too tired to yell at my kids. he should really consider taping me later in the day when the caffeine crash has happened and i have spent 2 hours doing tandem homework assignments. anyway, i wonder what he plans to use it for. is he doing a live webcast show called, “my ex wife in the morning?” maybe posting it on you porn? since he can not be seen at all on the tape, he is basically admitting to doing nothing at all each morning. way to go superdad! i wonder if his brilliant legal counsel told him to do that or if he just cooks up his own schemes while fantasizing about how he will get me convicted of a mothering crime: “judge, look at the tape. she actually had the nerve to get annoyed at the kids after asking them 6 times to get their shoes on for the bus. she should have asked at least 10 with a smile on her face and not raising her voice one decibel. plus, she made them wear jackets and gloves despite their pleas to the contrary! she should lose custody.” “judge, just look at that sloppy spreading of the bread. and that crust is not completely cut off and she is feeding our oldest, nutella, judge. nutella. yes, the chocolate hazelnut spread as seen on tv. yes, i did in fact eat the whole jar when i got the munchies last night so there wasn’t any left this morning. but, that is not the point. she is a bad, bad mother” “judge, did you see that? she only defrosted 3 mini pancakes, when clearly, the child asked for 4. that is definitely neglect.” when the kids aren’t looking i flip that lens the bird every so often when i walk by. i hope i look good on the ex-wife cam.

the ex-wife-to-be webcast: coming to a kitchen near you...

my itunes was randomly playing my tunes. billy joel’s “i don’t know why i go to extremes” came on. it occurred to me for the very first time in all the years i have been hearing that song, that it is clearly about his unmedicated bi-polar disorder.

when the bf and i are texting and i get a great blog idea from our exchange i say to him, “ferb, i know what we are going to blog about today. ” you have to be as huge a dorky phineas & ferb fan as I am to get this, but it amuses me.

all those new hybrid vehicles remind me of a hack magician’s act where he saws the chick in half in the box. that’s what those cars look like to me: like they were abruptly sawed in half in the middle of assembly at the plant.

i cheated my way through typing in middle school and still can’t type without looking to this day. i even hold my fingers in the “home” position, but that is as close as i get to actual ability. i regret that, since, clearly, typing is a useful skill for a wanna-be writer. kids, it’s true: cheating only hurts you in the end. i am living proof.

i am not saying no one else came up with this idea, but 7 years ago i emailed babies ‘r us’ corporate HQ  and told them about the existence of a large empty space in the area (which actually became their current location in manalapan), because i was tired of driving to eatontown for my excessive and entirely unnecessary baby needs. by the time they built it, i no longer had any use for their merchandise. however, i like to think that i helped out all the preggos in this area with that now unselfish act.

many times during the day i am shopping for things my kids need and i have a question or need clarification. like, ” is it you or your sister who eats chunky peanut butter?” and, “they don’t have the notebook in blue, will you use a red one?” and i wish i could text them at school to learn this important stuff that is worth interrupting their learning.

since the master cleanse only lasted til lunch, i decided to finish up my bottle of “hydroxycut hardcore.” one pill not only gives me insane energy so that i don’t need my giant latte anymore (a $4 daily savings), but also puts a perma-grin on my face. i am telling you it is better than any anti-depressant i have sampled.* they should put this stuff in the water.  *these statements have not been evaluated by the FDA.

i have a lock with a word combination because i can’t remember the damn numbers and how many turns which way (that was some major anxiety in school. hence the recurring locker nightmare).  the word i chose 3 years ago pre-divorce, but on the verge of very bad behavior is “LUSTY.” but, please don’t break into my locker at the gym now that you have the code, because i have no idea how to change it.

as i have told you, the idea of marrying again puts fear in my heart, but i know never to say never. but i think i would re-write the vows to make them a wee bit more truthful. like, “do you take this man in baldness and fatness, through bull and bear markets, for offensive gas and hairy ears, through workoholism and job loss, during kitchen remodels and sickness when he is being a complete pain in the ass. ” “do you take this woman to be your wife, during pms and bloating, pregnancy and numerous weight loss attempts thereafter, through bad haircuts and through losing your closet space to 59 pairs of black shoes, and promise to check on her once in awhile when she has the flu to make sure she is not dead?” “do you take each other to have and to hold if you can get your arms around each other after 15 years?” “do agree to honor invasive in-laws and friends you don’t like?” “do you agree to replace the toilet paper when its down to 3 squares and not leave empty containers in the fridge and say thank you once in awhile?” i think this could really save some marriages. much of the success in life is all about having realistic expectations and i think some truth in advertising would help.

you ever listen to music you used to just love that you thought was way cool a year or so later and realize how bad it really sucks and then wonder how you ever liked it in the first place? maroon 5 is this band for me. now i get why that doctor meg briefly dated on family guy said, ” i remembered you liked crappy music, so i bought you the new maroon 5 cd.”

when my girls play games where their dolls get married, i cringe inside.

a word i would like to see retired: “multi-task.” it just means doing a whole lotta things at once all half-assed  and pretending you are paying attention to your kids when you’re doing something else. another: “synergy” it’s made up corporate gobbledy gook. only douches use it.

also, i hate when people say i “text” her insetad of i “textED” her. i’m glad you are up to speed with technology, now how about trying to speak english correctly too?

when i have to spend some quality time in the loo at home and i have forgotten my reading material or i am not at my home loo location, i have some games i play to pass the time: 1. i take any object with writing on it and play the alphabet game. this is where i search for every letter of the alphabet in the text of the product in order of the alphabet.  then i do that with a word starting with each letter in alphabetical order. 2. i find a long word and make smaller words out of it. 3. sometimes i play the list game, where i try to make up a word for every letter of the alphabet according to a subject, like” antelope bear, cat, etc.  but it’s best to be properly equipped with your preferred reading material at all times ( hence the term pocketbook) or have access to the internet via a discrete hand-held device.

i would buy an iphone immediately if it had a “personal massager” app. that would be great for travel. or daily errands. or time at home…

i despise clutter so much that even e-clutter makes me nuts too. i clean out my email in-box religiously, unsubscribe from junk mail, update the email address book, delete unused files and programs, defragment the hard drive, remove duplicates and unwanted songs on my i-tunes frequently, delete old contacts from my cell, and reorganize all of my bookmarks regularly. keep in mind i can absolutely find time for all that, but i don’t floss.

2 new bumper stickers for my line: “i went on the honeymoon from hell and all i  got was this stupid bumper sticker” and “no sex on my wedding night.”

i’d love to make a video game for ex-wives where you get to shoot at men in suits running around with briefcases.

a few months ago i saw maybelline pulse perfection mascara in CVS. it is a vibrating mascara for $14.99. for that price, it better make me a latte the next morning.

my current romantical relationship has this kind of “stoner effect” where we get so involved and so interested in so many topics of conversation at once that we say, “waaaiiiitttttt, what were we talking about, duuuude?” i would love to have a dvr for my life/brain for this purpose. you could rewind back and remember what you were saying or did. there would be no arguing anymore. you could just say, “hey ref, lets’ go to the tape for a ruling.”

i am what is known as a chronoptimist.

several months ago i helped chaperon a sleepover party for 20 nine year old girls. wanna know what it was like? imagine being around 20 women all pms-ing hard at the same exact time. crying, hair pulling, gossiping, exclusionary tactics, and girls leaving at 4am. it was not pretty. after the craft portion of the fiesta was complete, i told the hostess, “as soon as you put the movie on, i am opening the wine.” she immediately said,” girls, i’m turning the movie on now.”

should someone hire me for such, my possible column titles are:  i am woman: hear me whore,  permanently hot and bothered, the lone milf, batshit crazy, my ugly divorce.

words i love: craptastic, fucktacular, dooshtastic, asshat (love the word, not the dude.)

5 famous people i want to hang out (= drink)  with: 1.  chelsea handler 2. niecey nash as her reno 911 character 3. brian from family guy  4. danielle fischel from the dish 5. joel mchale from the soup

did i ever tell you about my most embarrassing moment? tough shit if i did: it’s the very first day of college, it’s night, bunch of us are hanging in the dorm lounge to get to know each other and playing trivial pursuit. it’s my turn. the question is asked. i pause for a minute, shift in my seat, and in doing so a fart escapes. everyone dies laughing because they think i did it on purpose as my answer. i crawled out when no one was looking, but it took an entire semester to live down until i did some way more embarrassing things…

i love interior design and ever since i was a kid i try to peep into people’s windows as i drive by to checkout how their houses are decorated.

i don’t understand the concept of being a sports fan and hometown pride. you were just born there, you’re not playing for the team. ditto for people who say, “we won. we lost” it’s not we. you are not on the field. in fact, your lazy ass is sitting and watching, hotter, slimmer, younger men than yourself doing cool things while you are drinking 6 beers and eating 4 jumbo chili dogs. makes even less sense to me when it’s not even a team from where you went to college or ever lived that you gets so jazzed about and a loss ruins your day. what am i missing here?

why do manufacturers keep improving toothbrushes and toothpaste? it’s stuff we  have to use anyway. its not like you will start brushing regularly because they have a cool new toothpaste or quit because you don’t like the bristle placement on the available toothbrushes. seems like overkill to me.

can someone please make the voices inside my head stop? maybe the freud finger puppet?

i have learned of 3 more divorces quite recently and as glad as i am to be participating in a very lengthy one, i’m still sad when someone else’s dreams of that fallacious disney happy ending have died along with mine. so, in the interest of public service, i would like to share my great wisdom with the young ones out there who are considering volunteering for The Life Sentence, and, maybe together, we can prevent forest fires. here are some of the proverbial Red Flags (or load of bricks on the head), i would have been prudent to consider prior to signing on for my indentured servitude and thinking, “it will be different when we are married.” all in my opinion, of course. any resemblance to actual events or people, living or dead, is purely coincidental…

signs you should not marry the jackass, not necessarily in chronological order, if:

1. you, the current girlfriend, are not only not invited to your boyfriend’s college graduation party, but asked not to come while the most recent ex-girlfriend is.

2. you ditch your friends on your 21st birthday to be with your boyfriend (for which they will never forgive you) and he gets “a headache” and you stay home all night listening to him whine instead of doing shots with your bffs & snogging random dudes in a sleazy college bar.

3. it is a regular occurrence that your boyfriend is MIA for hours and ignores your phone calls even though you had a date because, he “was sleeping and didn’t hear the phone.”

4. he wears sneakers with velcro on them and he is over 20 years old.

5. he is so obsessed with a suckass band, that his rule for deciding if he will marry you one day is if you will go see that band with him at least once and it would help if you liked it.

6. when your californian cousin that you hardly ever get to see (or insert any one of your relatives or friends) comes to visit and you plan to go into NY to party for the evening (or insert any event) and he comes down with “a migraine” that lands him in bed for the evening. well, at least you go without him.

7. your boyfriend’s parents buy his ex-girlfriend a birthday present after you have already been dating him for a year, because they are still friends with her and “still care for her a great deal.”

8. your boyfriend’s sister says, ” i always thought you were going to marry (insert ex-gf’s name),” in front of you.

9. your boyfriend of approximately 2.5 years breaks up with you when you opt to visit your mother in the hospital after her hysterectomy rather than going to watch him kung-foo fight, saying, “she’s fine. you didn’t really need to be there. you were the only girlfriend who wasn’t there. i just can’t be with someone like that.” (also, you will forever hate yourself when you beg him to take you back after 24 hours. trust me.)

10. he EVER speaks ill of his mother. or your mother.

11. tells you that you embarrass him in front of his friends.

12. thinks pestering you to the point of making you cry is fun.

13. punches a hole in the wall right next to your head during a conversation about his crappy behavior, because he is just “so upset he hurt you.”

14. refuses to marry you unless you live with him first.

15. right before you plan to move in with him (because you gave in against the entire world’s advice), he goes with his parents to buy couches without you. hideous couches you will spend the better part of the next decade trying to get rid of.

16. he allegedly tries to get you stoned every night so you don’t notice what a jackass he is.

17. has a tantrum because the new sheets you bought are “scratchy” and refuses to sleep in your bed until you wash them, so he sleeps on the floor.

18. asks you to pick the zits on his head like you are grooming an ape & tells you you’re “selfish” when you refuse to out of disgust.

19. your father comes to you weeks before your wedding and tells you you “don’t have to go through with it. i don’t care about the money”

20. he allegedly asks you to hide his pot from him in a lock box and then threatens to harm you & cracks the code anyway when you refuse to give it to him.

21. you have one single, tiny, iota of doubt.

okay, so you didn’t listen to me or, more importantly,  your own nagging fears (which you swallowed down the night before the wedding) and you married the jackass anyway (because, the wedding is all planned, you are already living with him, and you have invested way too much time in him to leave). here are signs that he will most likely be your “first husband.”

signs your marriage may not be going well, not necessarily in chronological order, if:

1. your husband does nothing for your birthday, which also happens to be on passover, in favor of going to a concert of a band he has seen approximately 59 times.

2. he takes your $25.00 hanukah check from your grandmother and puts it in the joint account.

3. he does not acknowledge your family members when they are in your home.

4. his idea of dressing up is wearing the button down concert t-shirt instead of the regular concert tee and therefore refuses to go anywhere requiring big boy clothes.

5. when you are visiting international relatives for the holidays and he works in a concert 48 of said awful band and leaves you and the children in the hotel room alone while he does so. oh, and he also leaves his wedding band in the bathroom. hmmm.

6. while you are in the aforementioned hotel room, you unintentionally find his alleged porn websites on his computer because he wasn’t smart enough to erase the browser history and what you find is so sick it horrifies you. you also find the alleged craig’s list prostitute ads he was allegedly perusing in towns when he was “on tour” with his crappy band and most of them appear to be from allegedly under-aged girls.

7. refuses to sit down to a home cooked dinner at night, citing, ” i can’t be expected to sit down to dinner every night. you are trying to control me,” even though he usually gets home before most people leave work for the day.

8. isn’t excited about your first pregnancy because when you told him he was “still mad at you from the fight this morning.”  and barely even acknowledges the second one.

9. hates all of your friends.

10. does not have sex with you on your wedding night because he is too tired from counting up all the checks.

12. you are vomiting uncontrollably before you have to leave for your flight for the honeymoon & he doesn’t even give enough of a shit to get you a plastic bag because he is going to hawaii with or without you, dammit.

13. he has an all out screaming, crying, flailing tantrum on the floor one morning before work because the cat barfed on his favorite rug. the one with the pretty animals on it.

14. he considers owning a porn collection to be his scared right & your objection to it to be “unsupportive of his needs.”

15. he allegedly smokes pot your entire marriage and refuses to quit even after you have kids because you are “trying to take something away from” him that “he loves” & you are “trying control him.”

16. tries to convince you that you are crazy, and says you need anti-depressants & blood work to prove to him you’re not at his mother’s suggestion.

17. throws the fact around that he was there at the hospital when you had a lump removed from your breast as a reason why you should be more sympathetic when his back hurts.

18.  he allegedly uses you as a drug mule for his pot by hiding it in your suitcase on a flight to new orleans and tells you just as you are walking past the drug sniffing dogs. his reason, “well, i have a [broker's] license.” which, to him, makes perfect sense since you are only the children’s mother and they won’t miss you while you’re in jail.

19. he allegedly hides pot somewhere in the car you are driving over the canadian border, without your knowledge, but thinks its a good time to tell you after your car has been searched. ditto that on another night coming home from nyc after being stopped by the po po at a parkway rest stop.

20. freaks out if someone parks on his side of the driveway & blocks his entry into the garage.

21. throws the coffee table across the room, damaging it, because you rearranged the furniture again and he doesn’t like it.

22. pretends not to hear when you or his kids are speaking to him.

23. he allegedly takes all of your painkillers for recreational use after you have agonizing wisdom tooth removal so you do not have them when you are writhing in pain and actually need them.

24. hits a deer & wrecks the car the night you return home form your honeymoon, but gets mad at you “for being upset about the deer” and not “supporting” him.

25. thinks it’s fine for you to take the garbage out when you are 8 months preggers. at night.

26. you suspect at any time your husband might allegedly be a sociopath or at the very least a mental patient.

25. treats you like anything less than his beloved & treasured partner in life.

oh, i could go on, for pages,  but i think that covers most of your basic warning signs.

but, i’m not bitter. really.

so, i have just emerged from the cozy cocoon of a sick child who has been home for two days. the doc confirmed it was just a stomach virus and not The Swine. thank jeebus. i am developing a very close relationship with the pediatrician this year; averaging a sick visit with one child or another every 30ish days. poor lil thing felt so crappy all she did was lay in my bed and watch tv for 2 days. and of course, i being her loving mother, was more than thrilled to put everything on hold and sit and watch tv with her for 2 days. i discovered an entire world i have been missing – Daytime Reality TV. it’s generally reserved for the homebound, insane, house arrested, and unemployed, but we found a whole new slew of shows to dvr. we enjoyed The Style Network the most & its myriad of shows designed to break already low self-esteemed women down further by telling them their entire life sucks, their friends agree, and all they need to fix it is a makeover. thus, confirming their deepest fears that all that matters is how you look. then these newly fabulous empowered creatures are booted back to their crappy lives with to die for designer clothes they really could never afford, a hairstyle never to be replicated again, and a face full of expertly applied “natural” makeup that once washed off will turn back into blue eye shadow & glitter eyeliner. all with an “atta girl” sprinkled on top. since i now know all of womankind’s problems can be solved with a makeover, i have applied to be on the show…

anyway, all this “reality” inspired me to come up with my own reality shows, based on actual Reality.

here is the svw network’s spring 2010 lineup in development:

Unshowered

follow the deterioration of  extremely well groomed pregnant women as they become new mothers and no longer have the time for the extensive personal hygiene they once did. see the true genius of the creativity put into looking clean, but not actually being so. while being held together loosely by under-eye concealer & massive quantities of caffeine, can they fool their closet friends? will the baby wake up just as she steps into the tub? can she shave her legs with a one year old dancing around the bathroom? will husbands who never hear the baby wailing  all night, “help” out long enough to let their comatose wives take a shower? will she ever stop silently weeping upon accidentally viewing old photos of the woman she once was? the dirtiest, hairiest, but cleanest looking woman wins a trip to the bathroom so she can take just one crap alone.

Preschool Princessess

watch a semester of a class of darling suburban 2 year olds as they spend 3 hours at a pricey pre-school. watch their mothers overdress them in fancy designer clothes made for dolls, not children, send them into a room full of paint and glue and admonish them “to stay clean” while encouraging them to have fun. notice the teachers beginning to crack from the stress of trying to keep smocks on these princesses so mommy doesn’t rip them a new one when she comes back. you will be on the edge of your seat when grape juice and oreos are served at snack time.

Pyramid Scheme Pals

meet 5 women with their “own businesses.” they sell everything from makeup to craft supplies to household items. explore this cunning underworld as they struggle epically to keep making “new friends” (i.e. network)  to host “parties” where they get these “friends” to buy tons of overpriced crap they don’t need and to get others to be a “rep” under them. all it takes is a few suckers with checkbooks & a bottle of wine for these enterprising women to barely cover their initial outlay for “the product” they are now housing in their garages. some will actually make money, some will be forced to liquidate and quit. see how they handle the constant alienation from the community such as “friends” hiding from them when they approach for fear they be asked “to host a party as a favor” or attend one where they have to buy something out of a misplaced feeling of obligation.

On Hold: India

watch as 2 teams of heroic men & women conquer their fears in this monumental adventure game. they must get on the phone with customer service reps in india and brave the eternal holding pattern of a person that needs actual product support. only the most finely tuned of ears, can decipher the code of what the”agent” on the other end who just learned english yesterday is actually saying. how long can they go without hanging up? many will try, but few will succeed. the winner gets to be transferred to a supervisor and wait for a call back that never comes.

So You Think You Can Text

see the trials and tribulations of texters trying to communicate with non-texters in this exciting reality series. feel their joy when their technologically challenged friends finally get it & join the rest of the world in this new endeavor. see generations come together in a whole new way that doesn’t require any of that pesky talking. share their ups & downs as they try to decode each other’s text slang and give birth a whole new language. watch texting wars and friendships crumble under the weight of lag time. hold your breath as they all text while driving even though they promised tyra they wouldn’t.

Lunch

follow a bunch of women through various stages of wifedom & motherhood as they lunch at a different locale daily. the great debate of what to order. salad or chicken? dressing on the side. who is dieting? who is eating bread? who isn’t eating carbs? watch a fight break out as  the carb eater spits in the face of the the non-carb eater & snags her bread. who will have the gall to order dessert? will the stroller fit? how do the other women handle the pal that is always rude to the wait staff or the friend who has obnoxious kids that make a giant mess while screaming for an hour? will the intelligent woman’s ears bleed if she has to listen to one more story from the vacuous ex-supermodel mom? do they all make it home before the bus? the victorious woman wins a lifetime of all expense paid lunching at nordtsrom.

The Great Race: Endless Supermarket Run

watch  5 harried women return to the grocery store day after day for that One More Item they eternally need even though they “were just here yesterday.” see them cruise the parking lot for a closer spot, load 4 fighting kids into the cart and endure long “express” lines with lots of crap their whiny brats beg them to buy while just trying to pay for a 1/2 gallon of milk.

Drive-Thru Divas

you will be glued to your screen every week watching 6 suburban women drive about town in their giant suvs. they achieve all of their daily tasks without ever leaving their cars. coffee, lunch, the banking, pick up the family’s rx’s, re-fuel; all while talking on their cell phones to each other and just narrowly missing side swiping the drive-thru windows.  this is a game of extreme skill and only the winner will make it to the end of the season with both side view mirrors in tact.

Suburban Sexy

track a group of gorgeous suburban milfs as they follow a grueling weekly grooming schedule of manicures, pedicures, fills, spa treatments, hilights, color, cut, style, waxing, laser, botox,  and tanning. watch the young newbie’s eyes pop out of her head when the giant russian lady gives her a brazillian she didn’t ask for. she how they beautify & maintain from head to toe and still go home to husbands that ignore them because they are schtuping the chick at the office. they don’t care if hubby doesn’t notice, because the cable guy sure does.

Death by Disney

in this contest, teams of parents are forced to watch endless repeats of some of disney’s most insidious shows without losing consciousness or sanity. they will be hooked up to monitors to measure the effects on their bodies while  dr. drew explains their failing brain activity. will contestants’ long term memories be permanently altered by disney sitcom stereotypes’ quips? will their heads explode on national tv? does anybody but disney really win this game?

Queen of the Gym

which exercise obsessed work out princess will win the title of queen at the end of this series? it will be hard for the hottest personal trainer to pick his queen. which fabulously fit chick has the flattest abs, biggest implants, tightest spandex, best tatts, tightest ass, & most strategically placed multiple piercings? only one of these dedicated ladies who is at the gym every single day for 2 or 3 hours can wear the coveted diamonelle studded weight belt. who wants the crown badly enough? which lovely lady is willing to meet the fat gym owner in the locker room after hours to secure her title? how many guys will she let “spot her” to ensure the win? winner receives  a swarovski combination lock and a lifetime of personal training. and we mean personal.

network execs may feel free to contact me to discuss further creative development.